


Adore You

by hipster_queen



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I Don't Even Know, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, anyways i'm finally getting off my butt and writing it all, don't worry all of the chapters are very happy i promise, i don't think i'm even capable of writing angst so no worries there, it was very...therapeutic for me to write this, it's a very long thing I have planned out over the past year or so, where Hyunwoo and Reader go through a lot of things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipster_queen/pseuds/hipster_queen
Summary: Hyunwoo never believed in soulmates. The universe bringing two people together at the right time, the connection so deep and consuming that you felt as if the half of you that had been missing was now found? Impossible.But… then again… He can’t remember how he lived before her.
Relationships: Son Hyunwoo | Shownu & Reader, Son Hyunwoo | Shownu/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Alone With You

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this series with I don't even know how many parts because my phone is in the other room at the moment but just expect a lot of tooth rotting fluffy chapters that will make you weep because I sure as heck did thinking them up.

this is his favorite part of the week.

the moments when he has free time, few and far between. time spent away from his members, from staff, from obligations. when his life feels like a constant whirlwind of never-ending activities, he thinks of that one sliver of peace he has each week when he spends it with her.

and he also thinks of the next time he will see her.

he never knows which day it will be, since it always depends on his hectic schedule. but he makes it a point to see her in person at least once a week.

the minute he walks through the door of her dimly lit studio (she says she focuses better when it’s dark), the only light sources from her computer and the neon lights she has placed throughout the room, he sees her smile and all of his worries and stress melt away. her studio is a place where time freezes and goes by all too quickly.

she squeals in delight at his arrival, hurriedly clearing her projects from the top of her desk and running around the room to make it look less messy.

he doesn’t mind though. a little mess never hurt anybody. he is messy too, and he’s told her several times before that he doesn’t mind it. he just feels honored that she’s comfortable with him seeing her here, in her domain, her safe haven. she usually worked alone, rarely doing collaborations with other producers (she told him most of them were pompous arrogant jerk-offs who cared more about royalties), and so it was a rare thing for someone to be inside her studio with her. 

he smiles at her adoringly, the messy bun of her dark hair on top of her head bouncing around as she laughs awkwardly that she doesn’t know how this happens each time – knowing he is coming over and she still rushes around to tidy up when he appears. 

he doesn’t understand why every time he comes, she always insists on clearing off the cozy, plush cherry red loveseat right next to her desk. no matter where it starts, they always end up on the floor. 

she goes back over to her desk and tells him of the song she just heard, not even a minute before he walked in, and his smile becomes wider.

this is what they do. they both are constantly searching for new music, and when they came across a song they like or they think the other will like, they put it in a playlist. once a week, sometimes more, they meet here in her studio and the world fades away as they enjoy new music. 

he was on the lookout for new songs before he met her, but he is even more so now. when he waits for his turn in photo shoots, when he’s in the van on the way to promotions, when he’s inside greenrooms at concerts. especially when he’s inside greenrooms. 

he tries to come up with simple dance routines to one of the songs in the playlist, because she once confided in him that she didn’t know how to dance and he offered to teach her. and she’s just so fucking cute when she whines that he looks like a god doing it while she claims she looks like one of those wobbly inflatable men in a car lot.

there are other secrets she’s told him, but the one that stuck out to him the most was when she said she never had someone who had the same taste of music she did and she felt alone because of it. he asked her what kind she listened to, and she shyly admitted her taste was scattered everywhere. She played him some of her new favorite songs, her earbuds split between them in that busy, bright coffee shop, and everything around him disappeared until it was only him and her and the songs.

and he loved them. he loved them all. 

and when they said goodbye and went their separate ways after coffee, something in his brain clicked.

she was his music soulmate.

he too didn’t have anyone who understood his music taste. he had people making fun of him, most of it just pure teasing, but it still made him feel ashamed. so he would keep his music to himself when he couldn’t take the teasing anymore. what’s the point of sharing something you love if they are going to make you feel bad about enjoying it?

the next time he saw her, he gave her a mixed cd that he made with his laptop, the cd filled with songs he had known and loved for years. 

she asked him what it was, giving him a soft giggle that made his knees go weak. he told her it was stuff from his library and she broke out into a fit of more giggles. when he asked her what was so funny, she replied that she didn’t even know they made blank cds anymore. 

he didn’t have the heart to tell her that they really didn’t. maybe only a handful of companies did and they were impossible to find. he had found it in his father’s office helping him tidy it up while visiting his parents one weekend and he knew he had to take it back to the dorm with him. 

she deserved a carefully crafted mixed cd. she deserved nice things like that. 

it took him hours to create it later that week, sitting at the kitchen table with only the overhead light of the oven and his laptop screen illuminating the room in the still, silent hours of early morning. first it was throwing all of his favorites in the same playlist to have them all in one spot, then came deleting a few he deemed not good enough, adding more, adding back the ones he deleted, and scrapping the whole thing and starting from scratch. 

because this couldn’t be a compilation of just his favorite songs. no, this had to tell a story. his story.

his story of songs he heard when he was a little boy that sparked his love of music. of songs he listened to when he had crushes. of when he experienced heartbreak for the first time. of when he felt on top of the world, when he felt alone, when he wanted to be still and relax. 

his story of showing her he understood the pain she told him about – of people making fun of her for enjoying the music she did, so she would keep that part of herself a secret. showing her that there was nothing wrong with her for finding joy in the songs she did.

and she loved it. she loved every moment of it.

music was her safe space. it was her escape, her rock, her everything while she was growing up and even now as an adult. 

it had been there for her through all the moving her father’s job demanded, through her little brother being born which led to her mother ignoring her, through the girls in her classes that would bully her, through her parents’ fights, and when she felt utterly and completely alone. 

the music told her everything was going to be okay. 

as she got older, she wanted to have a career in music, a singer to be exact, but didn’t know if it would be possible for her because of her crippling stage fright. she had tried everything, she told him on an evening just like this one here. show choir, drama club, talent shows, community plays, but no matter how many times she did it, the stage fright was always fiercely present. 

one night she had gone into her father’s home music studio and tinkered around with some of his equipment and it was as if the stars had aligned. creating, not performing, the music is what she was born to do. being fascinated as a little girl watching her father move sliders and twisting knobs on his soundboard and making something so beautiful as the end product. her ears and mind always ignoring lyrics and focusing only on the music. 

he and his group had worked with her several times for songs, and something he noticed with her that he didn’t see with many producers is that she actually gave a damn about them as people. some producers with their songs got upset when idols wouldn’t, in their eyes, do their creation justice. screaming at idols and saying they’ll just “fix their stupid fucking prepubescent voice in post-production” or even worse, treating them like puppets and not as people at all. 

but never her.

her attitude was always 'this song is my baby who I have spent many sleepless nights and many snack-binging days cooped up in my studio over, but it is yours now and I trust and believe in you all and know you will make it ten trillion times better. now let’s go make some magic'. 

he is brought back to reality and realizes he is right where he knew they would end up. on the floor and on their backs, her cylindrical bluetooth speaker between them, the song currently playing sounding like the artist and they themselves are floating. 

“I love this part here...” she says as she closes her eyes.

he turns his head sideways to look at her. the smile on her face makes his heart melt. she looks so calm, so serene as she hums along to the pre-chorus, the part that she thinks is best. 

he looks up at the ceiling too before closing his own eyes, letting the pre-chorus of the song fill him – fill his head, his lungs, his heart, until he feels one with it.

he wants to stay like this forever. no going back to his usual obligations, no stress, no worries.

just her and him and music. 

this is his favorite part of the week.


	2. Away From You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyunwoo is away for States promotions and misses her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know how italics work in ao3's text box, hopefully the text conversation shows up italicized on mobile, but anyways, i recommend reading this on desktop since it will definitely show up properly there~!

he misses her.

he misses her smile and her laughter. her genuine laughter at his dad jokes because she and him had the same taste in humor. he misses her voice. he misses the way that she sends him snippets of what she’s working on, asking if it’s dance-able so she can have it ready to go for companies when they request something from her. he misses laying down on the floor of her studio and listening to new music. 

it’s only been a week of him being in america, but he just wants to go back home and see her. the time difference when he goes to another place makes it difficult for them to talk while he’s away, and he knows how hard she works each day so he doesn’t want to disturb her in case his math is wrong and he wakes her up in the middle of the night. he makes it a point to text her each night though, even if he only gets to talk to her for a few minutes. 

hyunwoo is exhausted from the day as he goes through his evening skincare routine. he uses his pinky finger to swipe through his phone and find another playlist that they are only part of, which she edits the name of every time he is away on business. this time it’s “Put That Hyunwoo Back Where He Came From, Or So Help Me”. through his weariness, he emits a small chuckle before clicking on the playlist. 

he’s already checked it once today and that was before going in to a press conference for american news outlets. he was nervous about it, hoping that the interviewers wouldn’t ask him questions that required an all english response. so he had popped in his earbuds and turned on her playlist, songs that she had added yesterday filling his ears and soothing his nerves. she was good at that, soothing his nerves. he wasn’t terrible at communication and leading, but he sometimes had trouble voicing his own feelings when he felt hurt or anxious because everyone always looked to him to be the strong one and lead them through the situation. she had told him she felt the same sometimes too, but when that happened that she always fell back on music. she said she believed, as corny as it was, that when words failed, music spoke. that music had the ability to heal emotional scars the way that other things couldn’t. 

he’s finished with his skincare now and shuts off the light to the bathroom, dragging himself over to the bed. he smiles to himself as he pulls down the comforter and untucks the sheets, her voice in his head going “never saw the point in the sheet under the comforter. Just need the comforter. I’ve slept like that since I was like eleven”. 

he’s tucked into bed now and he shuts off the nightstand lamp, the light from his phone screen the only glow in the room now. 

it’s late. it’s so late here, almost 2 am, but if his math is correct, then it would be 7 pm her time. hopefully she already ate dinner. some days she forgets to since she’s so busy with her work and he is the only thing that reminds her to eat. not that he’s complaining. it’s more time with her and it involves food. he spends so much time with her now that if the other boys can’t find him at home or in the practice room, they just automatically assume he’s with her. 

hyunwoo props up a pillow, groaning lowly when his head finally hits it, and brings up their private chat. he immediately opens up his photo gallery and quickly finds the video he took of a cat down by the beach today. he smiles to himself as he remembers how changkyun gave him so much shit for it. changkyun and him were out for a bit on their own, and a beautiful white cat, probably a cat who belonged to someone in the neighborhood, was sitting on the front steps of a local shop. hyunwoo immediately slowed his pace so he wouldn’t scare it, and leaned down, letting it sniff his hand before he began to pet it when it gave him permission. he used one hand to pull his phone out of his back pocket and the other still scratching the cat’s chin lovingly before he took a short video of it. 

changkyun stood there in disbelief, asking hyunwoo what exactly he was doing, even though it was obvious he was taking a video of this friendly neighborhood cat. it clicked in changkyun’s mind though that this video wasn’t just going to be a memory for hyunwoo, but instead that it was going to be sent to a certain someone back in seoul who loved cats with her whole heart. 

changkyun didn’t let him live it down for the rest of the day. 

hyunwoo attaches the short clip of him talking to the cat to the private chat and shuts his eyes as he waits for her to respond. 

_I love!!! Little baby!!!_

he smiles as his phone buzzes about four more times as she sends different heart eye memes. 

_What are you doing up? Isn’t it past midnight over there?_

_I’m tired but I’m worried._

_What’s wrong?_

_I don’t know. I feel… off._

_About yourself or about the group?_

_I’m not sure._

_He’s coming back, you know._

_I know… Did you eat?_

_I did, but I ate a lot so I ended up taking a nap and I had another song dream._

_What was it this time?_

he pauses the playlist and waits patiently for her to send the file. this time it’s a ballad, mostly piano and violin in it. she’s singing things here and there, lines she hopes she can flesh out when she’s more awake. her singing voice isn’t something she lets others hear often. she can sing, but she doesn’t like to sing in front of people because of her stage fright. 

_I wish you would sing more._

_Oh please, no one wants to hear me sing._

_I do._

_I’ll keep that in mind for when you come home._

hyunwoo valiantly tries to keep his eyes open so he can talk to her more, but he feels himself getting more sleepy by the minute. the combination of the playlist from earlier and the ballad she sent seemed to do the trick of keeping his anxiety away for tonight so he can properly rest. 

he drifts in and out of sleep as he saves the ballad file to his phone so he can hear it again whenever he wants to. 

_I miss you._

this is what he thinks he texts her, but his thumbs drag across the keyboard while sleep envelops him and he finally drifts off.

she stretches in her desk chair and yawns loudly, her phone dinging to remind her she has a new text.

she giggles when she sees what he’s written now.

_I mosa ypu._

she can almost picture him with his phone slipping out of his half curled hand, hair askew and damp from the shower, and face dewy from his nighttime routine as he snores peacefully.

_I miss you too. Sweet dreams._


End file.
